Gardens of Starvation
by Sagebrainy
Summary: Kerra Darkwaters was never one for death, avoiding scenes of anything ranging from murder to the common cold. The day before the Reaping, her only friends in the world die, leaving her to face the arena alone. To make matters worse, she's the youngest tribute there.


"Kerra!" Marion screamed into her sister's brown tunic, wide eyes streaming. The crimson stain spreading across Marion's blouse had rendered Kerra speechless with horror. The guard who shot Marion turned aside coldly, marching down the cobble streets without a trace of remorse. Kerra stared down at her sister, hugging her as close as possible without squishing her injured chest. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, but even the city dogs felt something for the two girls crying on the ground. One came up and sniffed their heads, resting it on Marion's lap in a show of sadness. Much more than the gathering crowd showed.

Marion's hand grew colder by the second, the serenity of death encroaching on the soulful depths of her eyes. Kerra wished with all her heart that she was the one lying there, blood painting the ground a clouded red._ Marion's only ten, she wouldn't even be there if it weren't for me,_ Kerra thought grimly. _Kerra_ had been trying to steal food, and only enough to feed the two of them. Their parents had abandoned Kerra and Marion long ago, fleeing into the woods surrounding District eleven in search of a more hospitable place to rest. They didn't think twice about leaving two adolescent girls to an orchard worker and his three sons, all greedier than President Laurna.

Kerra and Marion had worked day and night for years, putting up with anything and everything the men wanted of them, until the four grew tired of the girls' companionship. They were slaves of slaves of slaves, beaten and sold by the workers of the Capitol. Never, once, were Marion or Kerra treated as people-let alone equals to anyone. And they had thought the annual Reaping would be the most dangerous part of their lives.

Kerra pulled the lifeless Marion into her arms, glaring at the still crowd that had gathered around them. "G-g-g-" Kerra steeled her shaky voice. "Go… go away." Kerra shoved as much venom into the last word as she could muster, but only three on the fifteen even moved, and only to shuffle their feet. Kerra couldn't hold back the tears welling in her eyes. The only thing that kept her from launching herself at the nearest monster of a person was the cold bundle in her arms. Blinking hard, Kerra rushed past the people around her, hanging her head to hide her dripping eyes.

"Kerra." Rythian looked up at her over the basket he was holding. He set down the large bushel of fruit before clamboring to Kerra's side. Kerra stopped, her head slowly raising to be level with his. Rythian looked Kerra up and down, eyes catching on Marion's still body. He walked with Kerra to the huge cemetery, a guiding hand on her shoulder. Kerra was grateful to Rythian, but didn't say anything. She didn't need to say anything, Rythian would know. They had been friends for long enough.

Kerra had assumed the worst of the day was over. Watching Marion bleed to death, seeing the life and soul drain out of her, was the most difficult thing Kerra had ever done. She thought that maybe, just maybe, the worse things could be patient for a single day. Or year. Or lifetime.

Fate didn't agree.

* * *

Kerra stabbed the ground with the shovel, viciously flinging rocks and dirt over her shoulder. Marion's grave was done, it was Rythian's she was working on. The citizens of District eleven were used to death, it was an inevitable end to the road. Kerra didn't think they realized what pain it caused to the family and friends of the lost.

Kerra tried not to look at Rythian's corpse. He'd died protecting her from desperate, drunk, catcalling Peacekeepers who wanted nothing more than an occupied evening. _Damn_ the Capitol and their lapdogs, they can't take so much as a scrape to their precious egos without losing it. The little rebellion was exactly that-a little rebellion- until the Capitol went and made it all worse. The history books say that the Capitol didn't lift a finger against the first rebels, being too good hearted for retaliation against such a minor offense. Anyone who had relatives in the war knew better. The rebels knew why they were fighting, why they would do it again in a heartbeat.

One bad word about the Capitol and they would get the entire District on its knees, begging for mercy. One slip of the tongue about an individual was no different. The Peacekeeper in question, Adams, was feeling a bit past tipsy and decided to investigate the girl in front of him. Upon seeing Marion's body, he figured out who was carrying her. Kerra wasn't looking for a fight, but she got one anyway. One that cost Rythian's life in the end.

Kerra blinked the rest of her tears away, sniffling a little. The grave took a long time to fill back in, her shaking hands not helping. The sky was dark, which explained why the Peacekeepers had been sniffing around. Not many chose to stay on duty past ten o'clock. It didn't matter any more, the cover of night was dangerous for fourteen year old girls.


End file.
